Not too long ago, I shared a post about how my dad got me into reading when I was younger. It only seems right that I also talk about the memories I have of reading with my mom—because, in many ways, she shaped my love for books just as much.

When my brother and I were kids, my mom always had a book in hand, ready to read aloud to us. And it wasn’t just any book—it was always a classic. As a teacher, she understood the importance of reading aloud, and she knew that just because we were growing up didn’t mean the reading should stop. She kept reading to us well past the “little kid” stage, and I’m so grateful for that.

The first book I clearly remember her reading to us was Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes. Set during the American Revolution, it felt like the perfect match for my love of history, especially since I was so obsessed with Felicity, the colonial American Girl. What sticks with me most about that story, though, is (spoiler alert) the moment Johnny has a horrible accident that fuses his thumb to his hand. I was genuinely freaked out by that part, and I’ll never forget how my mom showed us her own hand in that same position to help us understand what happened. That moment has stuck with me forever, and I remember having nightmares of that happening to me.

Another book that comes to mind is A Separate Peace by John Knowles. I was probably a little young to fully grasp everything in this one, but it was the first book that destroyed me emotionally. I remember after we finished it, I had to write a short book report for school. As I sat down to reflect on the story, I started crying. One of my friends saw and asked why, and I tried to explain that the book had made me so emotional, but she didn’t understand how a book could have that kind of impact. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. In fact, it’s the reason my family named the puppy we’d begged for for years Phineas when we finally got him. Everyone assumed it was a Phineas and Ferb reference, but it was actually a nod to the character in A Separate Peace. I was already a book nerd even back then.

There was also The Cay by Theodore Taylor. I distinctly remember my mom crying while reading it to us. The story about a boy and his experiences in the Caribbean during WWII scared me in the same way Johnny Tremain had. I convinced myself that if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up blind like the character in the story. I know my mom was deeply moved by the emotional weight of the book, and I could see how much it meant to her, but I just kept fearing that I’d accidentally stare at the sun and go blind.

But if I had to pick my absolute favorite book we read together, it would be A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. This book opened my eyes to the world of science fiction, and I loved how the main character, Meg Murry, felt so relatable. I could see myself in her shoes—feeling out of place, but also strong and determined. This book ignited a passion for adventure and fantasy in me that stuck through my teenage years and beyond. Plus, it introduced me to a whole new genre of books, paving the way for my teenage obsession with Star Wars and Doctor Who later on.

Even though my mom is a math teacher and always encouraged us to explore STEM fields, she understood that my love for reading was just as important. She always supported my reading habits, even as I got older. I remember going to Barnes & Noble with her and picking out a few books, and for my high school graduation, she gave me a brand new Nook. It stayed perfectly white for about two days before I accidentally dyed it with colorful fingerprints after trying to dye my hair (the first act of freedom from the Catholic school uniforms and mandatory natural hair colors). Mom wasn’t even mad, as long as it still worked!

Do you have any special memories of reading with a parent? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!